CHAPTER TWO

KAIA

The Moonfang border looks exactly the same as the night I swore I'd never cross it again. The pines still stand like sentinels along the mountain road. The wind still carries the scent of wolves on patrol—earthy musk mixed with pine and something wild that makes my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin. And my heart still clenches like it knows I'm about to make a mistake.

I grip the steering wheel tighter as my beat-up Honda climbs the winding road toward town. Seven years since I fled this place with my tail between my legs and Vincent Lopez's cruel laughter echoing in my ears. I'd built a good life in Portland—small apartment, steady job at a marketing firm, friends who didn't care about pack politics or bloodlines.

But life has a way of dragging you back to the places you'd rather forget.

Mom's medical bills arrived three weeks ago like a death sentence. Stage three ovarian cancer. The treatments that might save her cost more than I make in two years, and our insurance barely covers the basics. I've applied to every job within a hundred miles of Portland, but nothing pays enough. Nothing except the administrative assistant position at Moonfang Construction.

The irony tastes bitter. The company that could save my mother's life is owned by the pack—and run by the man who taught me exactly how much an omega is worth.

I drive past the old pack meeting lodge, its log walls weathered but sturdy. The training field where young wolves learn to fight spreads out to my left, empty in the late afternoon light. In the distance, I can see the glass-and-steel headquarters of Moonfang Construction rising from the forest like a monument to Alpha dominance.

Movement catches my eye in the tree line. Three wolves step out from behind the pines, shifting to human form as they watch my car pass. I recognize one of them—Derek, a mid-ranking wolf who used to make my high school years miserable. His lip curls when our eyes meet through the windshield.

"Omega," I see him mouth, and my hands shake on the wheel.

Some things never change.

I take the exit toward my childhood neighborhood, following familiar streets lined with modest houses. The Dawson family home sits at the end of a dead-end road, a small ranch-style house with faded blue siding and a garden my mother used to tend with obsessive care. Now the flower beds are overgrown with weeds.

Mom's waiting on the front porch when I pull into the driveway, wrapped in a thick blanket despite the mild September weather. She's lost weight since my last visit, her cheekbones sharp beneath pale skin. But her dark eyes are as fierce as ever when they meet mine.

"You shouldn't have come back," she says without preamble.

"You needed me." I climb the porch steps and lean down to kiss her forehead. She smells like lavender and sadness. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm dying." Her dry laugh turns into a cough. "The treatments aren't working, Kaia. Dr. Kinsly wants to try a new experimental drug, but—"

"But it's expensive." I settle into the wicker chair beside her. "I know. That's why I'm here."

Her fingers clutch the blanket tighter. "Not like this. Not by crawling back to his family."

Vincent. She won’t even speak his name. Ever since I found the courage to tell her what he did, she’s hated him almost as much as I do.

"It's just a job, Mom. He probably won’t even notice I work there."

She turns to study my face, those dark eyes seeing too much. "You always were a terrible liar."

Before I can respond, she's pushing herself to her feet, the blanket falling to the porch floor. "Come inside. I'll make tea."

I follow her into the house, noting how slowly she moves, how she grips the doorframe for support. The living room looks the same as it did when I was seventeen—faded floral couch, family photos on the mantle, the old rocking chair where my father used to read to me before he died.

"There are things you need to know," Mom says from the kitchen, her voice carrying over the sound of running water. "About our family. About why I've kept you away from certain pack traditions."

My stomach clenches. "What kind of things?"

"Nothing that concerns you right now." The kettle clinks against the stove. "Just... be careful around them, Kaia. Promise me."

I want to push for answers, but the exhaustion in her voice stops me. Whatever secrets she's carrying, they'll have to wait. Right now, all that matters is getting this job and paying for her treatment.

An hour later, I'm sitting in my car outside Moonfang Construction's headquarters, staring up at the imposing building. The modern architecture clashes with the wild mountain backdrop—all clean lines and reflective glass that seems designed to intimidate. A symbol of pack dominance rising from the forest floor.

The lobby is sleek and professional, with polished marble floors and a massive chandelier made from twisted metal that looks like abstract antlers. The receptionist—a blonde woman in her thirties with the confident bearing of a high-ranking wolf—looks me over slowly when I approach her desk.

"Kaia Dawson," I tell her, proud that my voice doesn't shake. "I have a 4 PM interview."

Her smile is polite but cold. "Of course. Ms. Lopez is expecting you. Please have a seat."

Ms. Lopez. My chest tightens as I settle into one of the leather chairs in the waiting area. Talia. Vincent's younger sister, who used to be my closest friend before everything went to hell. The last time we spoke was the night of the bonfire, when she tried to comfort me after I found out about the dare. I couldn't bear to see her face—so much like her brother's—without remembering how stupid I'd been.

I cut her off completely when I left for college. No goodbye, no explanation. Just silence.

Now I'm about to beg her for a job.

My wolf paces anxiously beneath my skin, picking up the complex web of scents in the building. Other wolves, mostly higher-ranking ones based on the confidence in their movements. Coffee from the break room. Cleaning supplies. And underneath it all, something that makes my pulse kick up—warm spice and cedar, dangerous and familiar in a way that makes no sense.

I shake my head, forcing my wolf to settle. I'm being paranoid. Vincent probably isn't even here. The company is huge, with dozens of employees and multiple floors. The chances of running into him are slim.

I just need to focus on the interview. On convincing Talia to hire me despite our history. On saving my mother's life.

"Ms. Dawson?" The receptionist's voice cuts through my anxious thoughts. "Ms. Lopez will see you now."

I stand on unsteady legs, smoothing down my black blazer and pencil skirt—the most professional outfit I own. As I walk toward the frosted glass door marked 'T. Lopez - Executive Assistant Director,' that strange scent grows stronger.

My wolf perks up, recognition flaring without reason.

I freeze with my hand on the door handle, pulse hammering. That scent... why does it make every nerve in my body come alive?

I push the feeling down and force myself to turn the handle. Whatever games my imagination is playing, I can't afford to lose focus now. Too much depends on this going well.